


Consequences of Time: Origin

by ballerinaroy



Series: Consequences of Time [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Sharing a Bed, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: It’s been five years since Harry, Ron, and Hermione elected not to return to Hogwarts and hunt for Horcruxes. The Horcruxes allude them and their enemy grows stronger each day. When Hermione is gravely injured in battle and nearing death they bind their magic in order to save her. During her recovery, the wizarding world is lost in the war. Seeing only one possible end Harry, Ron and Hermione come up with a solution; reset time and return to their first year at Hogwarts in order to buy themselves more time to come up with a solution. The only issue with their plan is using highly theoretically spells tends to have consequences and they will soon learn that awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time.This story in seven parts explores the trio’s relationship with one another and the lengths they will go to in order to save the wizarding world.





	1. The Three of Them

**Author's Note:**

> Originally devised as a way to explore alternate timelines, this is the story has been nagging at me for a decade. It's a slow-burn, time-travel fix it featuring the trio, memory loss and meddling with something that never should have been meddled with. 
> 
> I usually don't post until the writing is complete but I don't think I'll ever be at peace with this particular work until it's published. 
> 
> Updates will be sporadic.

It had to be the three of them.

Ron saw no other way to achieve victory. In the weeks since their last battle sitting helplessly at Hermione’s bedside had afforded him much time to approach the problem. He’d applied the same vigor he’d always allowed to chess. Harry, had he shared what was going on in his mind, would say he was barking. Hermione, had she been alert long enough for more than a painful groan, would say he was coping.

No matter how he approached it, no matter what alternatives he could muster he always came to the same conclusion. It had to be the three of them. No two of them could go it alone, least of all he and Harry without Hermione. Which at the moment, seemed to be the only ending.

In the five years since abandoning their families, friends, and safety of allies to set out on their impossible mission, Ron had discovered time and time again that they had been woefully unprepared to accomplish their task. Often Ron reminisced on their time at Hogwarts, not just the safety and warmth of the castle or the guarantee or another meal and a friendly face, but rather for the time he’d spent in class. Each and every day given a simple set of standards to measure his accomplishments.

Ron lamented his careless attitude towards his education now. These days he found himself jealous of Hermione and her foreknowledge to pay attention in class. To utilize the opportunity to soak up every slimmer of knowledge their professors had to offer. Instead, he’d squandered his opportunity, and for what? The chance to joke with Harry? Or play Quidditch? It all seemed pointless now, a wasted opportunity, a wasted life. And now, sitting helplessly at Hermione’s bedside, he was facing the consequences.

In the bed beside him Hermione began to stir, eyelids fluttering but not quite opening. Her labored breathing made her chest rise and fall in uneasy patterns. It seemed she was trying to shift in the bed, but lacked the strength to will her own body.

“Hermione?” he whispered hesitantly, reaching out to place a hand over hers.

Her head tilted towards the sound of his voice but in the next moment, her attempt to regain consciousness ceased. Ron fell back into his chair, watching her with narrowed eyes, hoping to detect another sign of life. It was fruitless. Days had passed since Hermione had last opened her eyes, even longer since she’d been conscious while doing so.

Without her, they were completely lost on how to proceed. They were no closer to a solution than the day they’d been brought here. It hadn’t been a potion, no hex they could identify. Dark magic they had no foreknowledge on had been at work the fateful day of their last battle and without Hermione, without her brains, they were lost. Ron had no idea how to save her, their best friend, the woman he still secretly loved.

And how could she pass without knowing how he truly felt? For years they’d been flirting around the actual conversation. Each passing month brought them closer and closer but every time they dared to be honest, to be open about the burning feelings, they’d been faced with a grim reminder of their mission. They had to protect Harry. It was their pact, their spoken agreement to one another. Everything they'd done since Dumbledore’s death had been done for Harry.

Nothing, not even their affection for one another could distract from that. No matter how much it pained them.

Sure, over the years they’d certainly gotten closer. Physical boundaries had been crossed, the lines had been blurred for all three of them. It was commonplace for Hermione to hold his hand, to curl up at his side. A few times, but never enough, they’d even embraced, lips grazing each other’s cheeks in a frenzied longing for the real thing. But Harry always did have the best timing and no matter how much Ron wanted it he had stuck to their pact and stopped it.

After. That’s what Hermione promised him. After, was what he reminded himself. Only now, an after seemed like a foolish thing to bank on.

“Any change?”

Ron looked to the doorway to find Harry, watching him as intently as he’d been watching Hermione. Ron had the distinct impression he’d been standing there for some time. Harry’s silent observations had become commonplace since they’d arrived at the safe house. At first, Ron had found it unnerving to look up and find his best mate staring at him so intensely. Ron didn’t understand it, but he had more pressing things to worry about and it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world feeling cared for.

“Nothing,” Ron replied, idly flipping the page in the book he’d been scouring for guidance on what to do, where to look next.

Harry gave a disappointed sigh, walking over to the opposite side of the bed and looking down at Hermione. He reached out to stroke the hair from her face and at the last second hesitated, looking up at Ron for approval. This too was a new development Ron hardly understood. He and Hermione were hardly together. She had never objected to Harry touching her and now it seemed only appropriate for Harry to try and comfort her. They all slept in the same bed, after all, both of them were too afraid to leave her alone.

The lines of intimacy had been blurred and stretched since they’d started. It was only natural that when it was cold they’d huddle together around the fire and they were certainly all much too big for the invisibility cloak they squeezed under for protection. It wasn’t uncommon for Ron to return from fetching water or wood for the fire to find Harry and Hermione cuddled together in bed under heavy blankets and wrapped in thick jumpers. The dementors allowed to roam freely provided the air a certain cold nothing could prevent. At least when they were close together they were able to stave off the bitter chill for a moment.

“I can take over if you want to rest.” Harry told him, forcing Ron to look away from Hermione’s pale and waxy face and back to him. Harry was watching him intently again.

Ron shook his head, his mind seemed far too full to entertain the possibility of sleep. “You go on, I’d like to finish this book before I doze off.”

Harry nodded, slipping into bed beside Hermione. Ron watched as Harry studied Hermione intently before taking off his glasses and settling down. He wore the same intense expression that he did whenever Ron caught him looking at him. Ron knew from experience that the guilt Harry was feeling was eating him alive though he’d never admit it.

Ron turned back to his book, flipping the pages idly without much hope. Binding spells, commitment spells, spells to continue bloodlines between two families with only male heirs. None of this helped.

They didn’t know what was wrong but whatever it was Hermione wasn’t strong enough to heal. She was dying. He couldn’t save her. They couldn’t save her. As the room darkened his dry eyes struggled to focus on the text and as his head began to ache from the strain of trying to comprehend what he was reading Ron found himself staring instead at Hermione. Without her, there was no hope.

“You look exhausted,” murmured Harry’s voice.

Ron hadn’t even realized Harry'd awoken and found Harry staring at him with the same intense expression as before. Even in the darkness, his eyes seemed bright.

“Let me take over for a bit,” Harry continued, stretching as he got to his feet. “I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Ron rose to give up his post watching over Hermione as Harry began to charge around the room. They met somewhere in the middle, face to face at the end of the bed. For a moment they paused, staring at each other. It seemed they hadn’t been able to talk to one another since the attack, not unless it was about Hermione. Ron found himself wanting to ask how Harry was, from his appearance it was clear he felt as bad as Ron felt, just as anxious and helpless.

But before Ron could speak, Harry had reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes with a miserable expression. Ron waited, but Harry seemed overcome and unable to express his original intentions. Instead, he pulled Ron into sort of a half hug before ceasing contact.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, unable to find his own voice. “If I had known this was a possibility I would have never let her come.”

After all this time it seemed Harry still did not understand a fundamental truth about their friendship. Ron felt a rush of misplaced anger followed by an overwhelming sadness.

“It’s the three of us,” Ron said and though his emotions inside him swirled violently the words came out with no tone at all. “It’s always been the three of us.”

The three of them. This stirred something in Ron but seemed to have no effect on Harry who nodded and continued past Ron to resume the seat Ron had abandoned. It was Ron’s turn to stare at Harry who after all this time was unable to rely on his friends. Every disagreement, every fight along the way he’d given them an out and then, seemed genuinely surprised when they refused to take it. As if their eleven years of friendship was not enough proof that they’d stick by his side. As if one day Harry expected them to wake up and determine spending half of their lives with him was a waste and abandon him on the side of the road.

Ron often had to remind himself in these times that he and Hermione had been the most stable things in his life. Raised by an Aunt and Uncle out of responsibility and without love. Idolized by everyone in the magical world and inevitably used and abandoned by almost every witch and wizard who had come across his path. Those who had genuinely cared about Harry, invested the time into providing guidance and affection had either died or faded. No one had lasted long in Harry’s life. Hermione and he were all Harry could count on to be there in the end.

Ron took Harry’s spot in the bed, sinking into the space warmed by his body. Beside him, the chill still radiated off Hermione and Ron slid closer to her, taking her wrist with his hand and felt her weak pulse drumming an uncertain tempo. She was fading, Ron wished for the utmost time that he didn’t need sleep. He felt uncertain she would still be alive when he awoke. Propping his head on his elbow, Ron stared hard at her still facial features, willing her to move, to give any sign of life.

On the other edge of the bed, Harry was drawing closer, reaching out for Hermione’s free hand. They were all so close Ron could feel Harry’s warmth circulating through Hermione and back to him. If he reached out he could put his free hand against Harry and close the loop.

Ron could feel exhaustion wash over him. There was no point in trying to stay awake. It wasn’t as if staying awake would give Hermione more life no more than she could absorb his fatigue. His eyes began to drift closed as he thought of the three of them, Harry’s energy pulsing through Hermione. He imagined for a second if they were to surround her, to pour their magic into her if perhaps it would be enough to stop what was happening. The three of them, joined together.

He jolted to an upright position. The notion that had been nagging at him suddenly came into focus.

“Hand me that book,” Ron demanded of Harry who scrambled in shock to the book that had been knocked to the floor.

Frantically Ron flipped back through the pages, it had seemed like an insignificant passage at the time...but if he was right.

“What is it?” Harry asked. He’d moved closer, sitting now on the bed beside Hermione and looking hopefully at Ron.

“You know, not everyone is born with the same magical abilities. Magic isn’t in your blood but magic is a part of your body as much as your ability to speak or how much energy you have. Magic can’t be stolen from someone, but if you take away their wand for a dozen years and give it back then they wouldn’t be as powerful as before.” Ron finally arrived at the passage which he’d been reading. “I think Hermione’s magic’s been drained.”

“What?” Harry said stupidly. “You just said magic can’t be stolen.”

“Well, it hasn’t been stolen exactly,” Ron continued, trying to explain it while he was still sorting it out for himself. “But whatever she’s been cursed with has been eating away at her magical stamina. Her body can’t recover because she doesn’t have the thing which can heal her.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “Okay, if that’s true then what can we do to solve it?”

Ron scanned the page once more and presented it to Harry. “We use this. We combine our magic, all of us. It should overwhelm the curse and give Hermione the strength to defeat it.”

Harry read the passage several times, at first quickly with wide eyes as if he could not fathom this was a possibility and then more slowly, taking in each word piece by piece. During this time his hand never left Hermione’s and his brow became steadily more and more furrowed. Finally, when perhaps a quarter of an hour passed, Harry looked up and nodded his consent.

“How do we do this?” Harry asked with a steely resolve.

“We have to wake her up,” Ron told him, standing up. “Anything you can find, pepper-up potion, wide-eye, anything that can give her a jolt.”

Harry nodded, getting up at once and departing from the room. Ron crossed the room and opened the blinds, weak sunlight filling the room. He wished Hermione was awake. He wasn’t entirely confident that he’d even understood what he’d been reading. Theoretical spell work had always been her specialty and it felt risky to attempt this without her guidance.

Returning with his arms full of vials and a bucket of ice, Harry spilled the contents onto the bed. Together they pulled Hermione into a sitting position. She groaned when they moved her but otherwise showed little signs of life.

“We don’t have long,” Harry spoke aloud the same thoughts running through Ron’s head.

There was no guarantee they’d even be able to wake her and if they could she could stay lucid long enough to complete the ritual.

“We should go over it until we have it memorized,” Ron offered, pulling the book towards them so they could read over the spell work. “I’ll do the wand-work, you make sure Hermione can do her part.”

He practiced the wrist movements, the intricate patterns. Without speaking, he manipulated their arms into the formation they would need to complete the process. Each of their left hands gripped the other’s wrist so they formed a triangle between the three of them. Again Ron could almost feel the magic coursing through them all.His hands were shaking when he finally looked up at Harry.

“It’s like an unbreakable bond.” Harry told him as if this knowledge would make it any less intimidating.

“Know a lot about those do you?” Ron joked.

For the first time in days, Harry smiled and shook his head. “We just have to promise our loyalty to one another, and we seem to have a lot of experience with that.”

“This could result in all of our magic being used up,” Ron said, suddenly nervous. “Whatever is inside of her could just consume all of it. We could all die.”

“We don’t have another choice. We can’t let Hermione die.” Harry said as if it was already a matter that had been resolved. “You both would do anything for me. Like you said, it’s the three of us.”

So Harry had been listening.

“Alright,” Ron nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

Harry reached down, picking up the potions and bucket of ice. Ron looked at him quizzically.

“It’s what they do in the movies, splash cold water on someone,” Harry explained, gathering the rag in the bowl and wringing it. He placed it on Hermione’s neck who shivered.

Ron tilted Hermione’s head back while Harry pored the potions down her throat, first pepper-up which made her skin flare red and then a wide-eye. The effect was almost immediate. She came to with a wet cough and looked at them with hooded eyes.

“Hermione,” Ron said at once and caught himself in the middle of almost asking her if she was alright. “We need you to focus okay?”

She looked over at him slowly and nodded her head a fraction of an inch. Quickly Harry and Ron scrambled to put their arms back into the necessary formation. Hermione’s hand gripped his wrist weakly, and her fingers felt like ice on his skin.

“Hermione do you trust us?” he asked softly.

Hermione looked beadily at him and nodded her head once more.

“Harry, do you vow to give your life in the protection of ours? Do you commit yourself to us and to this bond above time and space, beyond the known realm of magic?”

“I do.”

A golden light emitted from Ron’s wand, snaking its way around the joined arms. They looked to Hermione whose eyes were already dropping. Ron could feel himself shaking.

“Hermione, having heard these promises do you commit yourself to us? To protect and provide, to do anything in your power to ensure the safety of those in this bond?”

“I do.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

A second steam shot out from Ron’s wand, strengthening the connection between them.

“I bind us in this commitment we have made to one another, until the very end.”

The third and final ribbon of light wound its way around them. The three began to glow more brightly and Hermione’s hand felt hot against his skin. Ron could feel something deep inside him stirring. He looked to his partners, Hermione’s eyes were open again and she was staring at their hands with a mixture of amazement and confusion. Harry seemed to be concentrating hard, willing the magic along.

There was a burst of light, enveloping the room in a warm glow and the bands began to wind their way around the triangle quickly becoming more solid. There was a final burst of blinding light and then a pinching on his left hand. It was over.

Hermione looked between the two of them as if asking what they’d done. Ron opened his mouth to explain, but before he could she collapsed, shivering violently and slumping over.

“Did it work?” Harry asked worriedly as he inspected Hermione.

“I don’t know,” Ron answered, he could feel himself trembling in fear. “I followed the instructions, I just-”

Suddenly, performing the spell seemed very stupid. His own life wasn’t valuable, but killing the only person who could defeat Voldemort in order to save the woman he loved was very selfish indeed. Ron looked at Harry, worried the curse would do as he feared and zap the magic from them. Ron was certainly shaking and felt very weak. Hermione began to shake more aggressively and just as the panic was beginning to set in, she stopped.

Hermione let out a great sigh of relief in her sleep and seemed to relax. Her breathing was deeper and color rushed back into her skin. Ron could feel himself about to cry with relief. Harry’s hand checked her pulse and temperature and the smile he gave Ron was confirmation.

Ron settled down beside Hermione, giddy with relief. His hand moved to his forehead as he let out a nervous laugh and he felt something warm and hard press into his skin. Confused, he drew his hand level with his eyes, but there was no mistaking it. Wound around his left ring finger was a solid gold band. For the second time, Ron shot up in bed to find Harry staring between his and Hermione’s hands with wide eyes.

“Ron,” Harry asked carefully. “Are you sure you read that passage in it’s entirety?”

He scrambled for the book, flipping through the surrounding pages, but there was no mention of marriage, only a lasting commitment. He’d been so occupied with the effect that he hadn’t considered this to be an outcome. They’d made commitment after commitment to one another for years. Why should he have expected this to be any different?

“Are we married?” Ron asked stupidly, looking up at Harry.

Harry’s look was mutinous. He glared at Ron for a second and then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He decided. “As long as it worked we’ll sort it out later.”

Ron didn’t have the energy to remind him that it was he who had compared it to an unbreakable vow. “Above all time, space and the known realm of magic” hardly seemed like something which could be sorted. Harry was right though, as long as it worked it didn’t matter. Ron would have given anything to ensure Hermione’s survival.

“Let me read for a bit,” Harry said finally, reaching over and removing the book from Ron’s hands. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

He had forgotten in the excitement of performing the spell, but Ron was utterly exhausted. As he had before, he reached over for Hermione’s arm, feeling her pulse. No longer was it unsteady, but now beating in a slow but steady rhythm. Her skin wasn’t ice cold, but a pleasant warmth which he unconsciously snuggled against. The events swirled around in his mind but one thought stood out, the spell hardly would have worked unless they had all intended to honor their vows.

 

 


	2. Unexpected Visitor

“If I die,” Hermione breathed. “Promise me you’ll destroy my body.”

“You’re not going to die,” Harry replied softly. “Hermione, you’re getting better.”

“Harry,” she whispered sternly. “I’m serious if I die you have to destroy my body. You can’t bury me or leave me somewhere, promise me you’ll destroy me.”

“What are you talking about?” he conceded.

“I don’t want them to trick you using me. Once you’re sure that I’m dead, properly dead, then you have to destroy me completely. You can’t give them the chance to use me against you. Ron’s not strong enough, it has to be you.”

“Hermione-“ Harry wined.

“Promise me,” she urged.

“I promise.”

 

Ron was unsure for how long he slept, his hand gripped around Hermione’s wrist to be notified when she stirred.

When he awoke fully, daylight was once more streaming through the windows and Hermione was quite warm beside him. He opened his eyes, feeling someone staring at him and was faced not with Harry, but with Hermione, her eyes focused on his face, looking at him intently as if trying to memorize him. She noticed his open eyes looking at her and the corners of her mouth ticked upward in a smile.

“Hermione,” he breathed in relief. “How are you?”

“Okay,” she managed in a hoarse voice with a slight nod of the head.

Gingerly he helped her into a sitting position in the bed and offered her the glass of water she stared at. On Hermione’s other side, Harry appeared to be fast asleep, glasses askew on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, fussing over the blankets around her.

“I just feel groggy," She assured him. "Like I’ve been asleep for ages.”

“It’s been almost a month,” Ron told her, reaching out to stroke her hand, assuring himself she was still there. “I thought we were going to lose you.”

“I’m okay,” she told him and with familiarity, gently squeezed his hand.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Ron felt suddenly overcome with emotion, he couldn’t express how grateful he was to be finally staring at a Hermione who was not actively passing. He wanted to express to her how he felt but suddenly found himself shy, feeling as if it would be too intimate.

“Harry told me what you did.” Hermione filled the silence, looking down at their joined hands pointedly where the band still sat on Ron’s left hand.

He had forgotten this detail. It struck Ron suddenly how incredibly inappropriate it had been to perform such a binding spell on someone who didn’t know what was going on let alone stay awake long enough to be able to consent without the assistance of potions.

Immediately he launched into an apology “Hermione, I’m sorry I didn’t realize-“

“You saved me,” she interrupted him. “Ron, I can never thank you enough.”

“If I had known-“

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have saved me if you had known it would require marrying me?” Hermione questioned.

Ron wasn’t sure if she had intended to be sarcastic, but something in her eyes seemed to imply she was hurt by what he was saying. He was overcome with the familiar feeling of butterflies in his stomach which came whenever they got close to the subject of their feelings. Ron reminded himself of all the things he’d thought over and over again while staring at her lifeless body, all of the things he promised himself he would say if he was just given one last chance to tell her how he really felt.

The silence had gone on too long, and Hermione’s hand was slipping from his, a disappointed expression on her face. This was his moment, the desperation of watching Hermione die had made him more sure in his feelings than ever.

“No,” Ron finally answered her question. “I’m saying that I always intended to tell you how in love with you I was before I put a ring on your finger.”

“What?” Hermione gasped, shocked and with tears in her eyes.

“I love you,” he told her, blood pounding in his ears. “I’m in love with you Hermione.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. Ron wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear here even if she said anything for the sheer volume of his beating heart.

“I know,” he continued quickly. “I know we said that we’d wait until this was over to have a proper talk, that Harry was our top priority until the war was over, but I can’t wait any longer Hermione. There is no guarantee any of us are going to survive and if something happens to one of us I want you to know the truth. I love you, Hermione. I mean hopelessly and properly love you. I’m not sorry that spell ended in a union, I’m just sorry I won’t get the chance to ask you.”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione gasped. She had let go of his hand and replaced it over her mouth.

Tears were running down her cheeks as she stared at him. Ron wasn’t sure if they were tears of joy or horror. For a long moment, he was held in suspense, watching as Hermione cried. Then, as best she could, she put her arms around him and kissed him on the lips.

He braced her, one hand wrapping around her middle to stabilize her and the other sinking into the curls on the back of her head. Her lips, though dry and cracked, felt so natural against his and selfishly didn’t want her to stop though he knew she was out of breath.

“I’m in love with you.” She repeated to him, not removing her hands from behind his head. She rested her forehead against his chest and sighed a happy sigh. “I’m so in love with you Ron. I can’t survive without you, can’t imagine it being anyone else. No matter what happens, I hope you know that.”

Ron’s heart felt like it was about to flutter out of his chest as overwhelming happiness crashed over him in waves. Part of him couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner. It felt so freeing to finally be able to tell Hermione how he felt. But another part of him knew that all of his waiting, all of the nights he spent agonizing over how he felt and wondering if she felt the same, had just been leading up to this.

The three of them being physically close to one another was something he’d experienced many times. Holding her in his arms now somehow felt different. He didn’t have to worry about holding on for too long, or her catching his stupid smile. Her head resting on his chest felt natural, and when she looked up at him again, a stupid smile on her face he did what he’d been thinking of for years and kissed her again.

“I can’t really believe that we’re all really married,” Hermione commented several minutes later, resting her head on his shoulder and staring into his eyes.

“It’s always been the three of us,” Ron told her.

“It’s always been the three of us,” Hermione repeated, sounding rather pleased about the thought.

Another thought occurred to her, and her smile seemed to fade as she turned her head. He followed her gaze over to Harry who was still fast asleep, curled towards the empty spot Hermione had vacated.

“Poor Harry, I don’t know how he’ll ever find someone who can look past all of this.” Hermione voiced.

A future partner for Harry hadn’t been something on his mind. It seemed crazy and foreign, the idea of Harry having the time to be with someone else.

“There’s always Ginny,” Ron reminded her. “If she was willing to take him on before, she’ll be able to take it on afterward.”

Hermione made a face before settling back against him, laying her head on his chest. “I’m not saying Ginny couldn’t, but I don’t think she expected him to be married to one of her brothers. Imagine that reminder every day.”

Ron began to stroke her hair.

“The marriage isn’t all of it either.” She continued. “Imagine having to explain everything we’ve been through since we left school. No one is ever going to be able to really understand all of that.”

Though Hermione had a point, Ron didn’t particularly like the idea of Harry being with anyone else at all. Something in him liked the idea that he belonged to them. After all, it had only been the three of them for the past five years and before that, even in school, Harry had always been theirs. The idea that after all this was over, Harry could one day find someone else to share a life with seemed ridiculous. Ron knew how selfish he was being, but he rather liked the idea of Harry only belonging to them.

“Let’s just focus on getting to the end first,” Ron told her, finally looking away from Harry. “Then we can figure out an after.”

Hermione nodded, looking up at him. “I need to use the loo,” she told him. “But I don’t think I can make it on my own.”

It took some maneuvering during which Ron was convinced it would have been easier to just use the vanishing spell they’d become apt at to empty her bladder, but twenty minutes later they found themselves in the living room. Hermione looked completely worn as he deposited her on the couch and went to stoke the fire.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked. “How did we get here?”

“Aberforth brought us here,” Ron told her. “We think it was the Dumbledore’s house.”

Hermione’s eyes were alight at once and began looking around the room with new wonder. “Dumbledore? We’re in Godric’s Hollow?”

Ron nodded, dropping into the seat beside her. “We can’t go out, Abe warned us that we were safe here but someone could follow us back in.”

“He hasn’t been back then?” Hermione questioned.

“No,” answered a voice from the doorway. Harry sauntered in, his hair sticking up and looking as if he’d just woken. “No one has.”

He greeted Hermione with a smile and sat down in the chair closest to her end of the couch.

“How did he find us?” Hermione questioned them.

“He showed up after the ambush started,” Harry told her. “How much do you remember?”

“Not much,” Hermione said. “I remember staking out Gringotts and working with Charlie. Something happened to him and when we tried to save him we got the tracking curse put on us so we ran. Then I remember a battle starting but—“ she faltered, looking at them for help.

“You were hit pretty early on,” Ron told her. “Dolohov hit you from behind and the amount of magic it took attracted the attention of our side. Neville and Abe showed up along with half a dozen others. We tried to wake you up but it wasn’t working and it all became madness pretty quick. Abe brought us here and told us he’d be back when he could.”

“But he hasn’t?” Hermione questioned.

Harry and Ron shook their heads together.

“Shit,” Hermione commented softly.

Ron caught Harry’s eye and they grinned at one another but he didn’t dare say anything about her language.

“So no one knows we’re here?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Ron confirmed. “It’s just the three of us. But we’re safe, we can figure out what’s next.”

 

 

Over the next few weeks, they adapted to their new normal. After some initial awkwardness of determining sleeping arrangements, Ron was unsure of whether he should join Harry in the other room or remain with Hermione, he and Hermione had decided in the cramped bedroom while Harry took over the equally small room down the hall. It was strange, after all those years sleeping so close to Harry to no longer awake to his snoring. He enjoyed having Hermione beside him, being able to kiss her before they went to sleep or hold her close when his racing mind prevented him from sleeping.

As Hermione regained her strength she delighted in the stash of books which littered the home. The tall bookcases which lined the living room and stacks in the hallways. She seemed to go through several books a day, often quoting things out for them or nodding excitedly at a passing she was reading. Ron was reminded of their days in Hogwarts. He’d always been annoyed with her obsession with the library, but he now found it endearing to see her back in her element. It was as if the war had paused around them and they’d stepped back into a life without monsters at their doorsteps.

While Hermione read and studied the many texts, he and Harry uncovered an old chess board from a hallway closet- even that was teeming with boxes full of books- and resumed their habit of laying before the fire and challenging one another. Other days they would join Hermione, picking books at random and scouring the texts. Ron never felt like he got as much out of the books as Hermione.

 

“I wish we had a wireless,” Ron commented one afternoon when the thought struck him. It was the only thing missing that would truly make it feel like old times.

“Wouldn’t be much use, would it?” Harry asked, directing his knight to take Ron’s rook. “There’s hardly anyone to run the stations.”

Harry had a point. Still, it would have been nice to catch a quidditch match. Then Ron realized with a painful pang of sadness, it was hardly likely quidditch matches were still being played.

 

During one of their exploits through the closets, they found a box of old notes and diagrams. Ron and Harry spent most of the day pouring over them, trying to determine what exactly the writer had been trying to solve only for Hermione to spoil their fun by taking one look at them and informing them it was someone attempting to develop a spell that could work both as a defensive charm and provide invisibility.

Ron hated to admit he was growing bored when for months all he’d complained about was wanting to take a warm shower and sleep in a proper bed. But as the weeks stretched on, he found himself itching to make a plan, do something. He knew Hermione’s recovery was still taking time, though she was able to stay awake for most of the day and no longer looked sickly thin, her magical strength was hardly what it was before and Ron couldn’t imagine her faring well back in the elements.

What was more was they had lost almost all of their supplies in their desperate attempts to lose those tracking them. The tent was gone, as was the invisibility cloak. Attempting to exit the home and resume their quest for Horcruxes seemed like a death wish. So they remained in the home, sheltered and oblivious to the war raging around them.

 

 

A pounding on the door startled them from their lazy afternoon, lounging by the fire. Instantly they were on their feet, scrambling for the wands they no longer tucked so close to their body and pointing them collectively at the front door. There was a silence, and they all stared at one another, wondering if it had been a collective trick of the mind. Ron looked to Harry and then Hermione, their eyes as wide with shock as his own.

“Hello?” a raspy but familiar voice called.

There was a second, more frantic pounding.

“Hello!” the female voice called again. “I know you’re there,” she paused and then in a more weepy, desperate voice. “Please be in there.”

Ron looked to Harry, wondering if he could be possibly hearing what he was hearing. His heart continued to tattoo in his chest as he moved in front of the other two and towards the door.

“We can’t know for certain,” Hermione hissed as Ron continued to the door, “Ron.”

“Please,” the voice begged. It sounded very much as though she was crying. “Please be in there. If you’re not then that means…” she seemed unable to finish her sentence. There was a loud sob and then more rapid poundings. “You have to be in there, I can’t be the only one left.”

“Ron,” Hermione begged in the same quiet voice. “It could be a trick it could-“

He knew by all logic there was a very good chance this was a trick. Pulling his wand he muttered, “Homenum Revelio.”

“One person,” he reasoned with her, walking with more determination towards the door.

“Ron,” Hermione hissed.

He looked to Harry for support he too was inching towards the door, a desperate longing in his eyes. The pounding and sobbing continued. Ron feared if he waited much longer, he would lose his chance. Ignoring Hermione’s desperate begging he turned to Harry. “Stand over there, I’ll open the door and we’ll both stun her.”

Harry nodded. Hermione rushed forwards, gripping the sleeve of his shirt. “Ronald, you can’t. We don’t know who that is.”

“We’ll stun her and give her veritaserum,” he logiced. “Please Hermione, I have to know.”

“Please,” the now hysteric voice outside echoed. “You have to be there, it can’t just be me.”

Perhaps it was the determination in his eyes, or perhaps the woman’s voice finally had broken through to Hermione, but she nodded in defeat, gripping her own wand and assuming a ready stance.

“Harry, hide in the kitchen,” she told him. “You’ll still be able to see but you’ll be safer.”

Harry didn’t question her, dashing off just out of sight. Ron hurried over to the door. The knocking had stopped and the person was simply sobbing now long and deep cries. There was a thud, and then the sound of the person sliding down the door. Ron looked to Hermione once more who gave an uncertain nod as she gripped her wand tighter.

“Alohomora,” he breathed, unsure if this door would even open for them.

There was the soft click of the lock turning and with his left hand, Ron slowly turned the handle, keeping pressure on the door to keep it from opening. He closed his eyes for a moment, unsure if he would be able to stand this disappointment and then flung open the door.

Hermione’s spell hit straight on the back before they could even properly turn their head and notice what was behind them. Even in filthy clothes and her tangled hair hidden underneath a winter hat, there was no mistaking it. Five years older and worse for the wear,Ginny Weasley fell backward across the threshold.


	3. A Worn and Starved Soldier

“She’s freezing,” Harry commented as they set her on the couch. 

Still out from Hermione’s quick and powerful spell, it only took Ron one arm to maneuver the tiny body of his sister over to the couch. Hermione hurried over to them as she shut the door and replaced the protective enchantments they’d cast. She hovered over the back of the couch, biting her lip as she stared anxiously at Ginny.

“Is she alright?” Harry asked nervously as Ron pushed back her hat to check her temperature.

“She’s fine,” Ron told him with a sigh of relief as he felt her pulse, weak, but still there.

Hovering over them he watched as Hermione cast a half dozen spells she hadn’t used in ages, deception charms, medicinal. When she finished her apprehensive look did not fade and she wandered back towards the bedrooms muttering to her self.

Ron watched her go, refraining from shouting out “I told you so” though it wouldn’t help now and Hermione had been right to be cautious.

He turned his attention fully back to his sister who was alarmingly still on the couch. Their five years apart had aged Ginny grateful. No longer did she look like his young and carefree sister. Always thin, she was now positively ethereal and like the rest of them looked like a worn and starved soldier.

Harry fussed with the matted hair on her face, taking his place by her head and gripping her lifeless hand. She was riddled with cuts, a deep wound on her forehead caked with dried blood. Her skilled hands were littered with marks, grime coating her nails and the pads of her fingers calloused. Part of her right pinky was missing and along the hem of her torn jumper, Ron spotted deep purple bruises. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could anyone have allowed this was beyond him. Who had allowed her to fight in this war? 

Guilt surged through his body as he continued to examine his worn baby sister. She almost looked peaceful, laying in the spot he’d abandoned with the fire glowing on her face. Hermione returned, carrying a pile of blankets and items in her arms. She seemed rather worried and couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“We should wake her up,” Harry demanded at once, rising to take the things from Hermione’s arms.

Hermione looked down at Ginny in consideration and then nodded, picking out a vial from the collection she’d brought and unstopping it. She handed it to Ron wordlessly and with Harry’s help they tilted back her head and poured it down her throat.

Ginny came to slowly, moaning as her face screwed up in pain. When Ron reached down again to take her hand she flinched, bolting straight up and wrenching her arm away in alarm. Her eyes shot open and he watched her momentarily scramble for her wand before finally focusing on him.

“Ron?” she whispered, her eyes already wet as she stared at him, disbelieving. She looked around at Harry who was kneeling beside her anxious and then finally Hermione who still wore the anxious expression. Her eyes landed back on her brother and she reached out a tentative hand, hissing when it brushed the side of his face. “Am I dead?”

Ron let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as Ginny threw her arms around him. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He gripped at her, relishing in how wonderful it felt to hold his sister after all these years. His could hear her sobbing again as she gripped at him. They’d never hugged for as long as they did in that moment but he still hated when they separated, tears streaming down her face as she greeted Harry with the same shocked enthusiasm.

Ron felt the same intense relief as he’d felt the day Hermione had finally started recovering. He took Ginny’s hand in his, kneeling before her as Harry wiped the tears from her eyes. Hermione alone didn’t seem to be sharing in their joy. When he looked up she was watching Ginny with the same worried expression but before he could ask she faked a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Ginny followed his eyeline and gave another relieved noise, beaconing Hermione over to join them. She sat down on Ginny’s other side, and hugged her friend.

There didn’t seem to need to be words as they all sat as closely as they could to one another.

Ten minutes might have passed, or even a lifetime when Ginny squeezed his hand and gave him a miserable look. She opened her mouth to say something, or perhaps to ask a question but faltered, giving him another watery smile.

“I don’t want this to end, but could I use the loo?” Ginny asked in the same rough voice.

“Come-on,” Hermione said at once, using Ron’s shoulder to help her stand. “I’ll get you a fresh change of clothes while we’re at it.”

Ron rose from his crouched position before Ginny and offered her a hand. He pull her into a quick hug before releasing her, watching as she followed Hermione out of the room, already asking a low question. Harry’s eyes were alight with joy as he watched Ginny retreat down the hallway.

“You might want to check the spells,” Hermione called over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner.

Ron couldn’t help the grin on his face as he rose obediently, pulling his wand and ensuring the spells Hermione had cast were in place, sealing the door for good measure.

“She’s just taking a quick shower,” Hermione explained as she re-entered the room.

“What did she have to say?” Harry asked at once.

“Nothing,” Hermione said in a not so truthful voice.

“Come-on,” Ron said, “You were in there a long time. What did she have to say?”

Hermione paused, and that slightly miserable hesitation was present for a moment before she adopted a generous smile. ”Nothing, I was just helping her heal some of her marks.”

Ron knew there was something Hermione wasn’t telling, and wondered for a moment about asking her. Before he could however, she stood up, avoiding his eyes.

“I think I’ll get started on dinner then,” she told them before wandering away.

 

Ginny emerged perhaps twenty minutes later with wet hair and a fresh change of clothes. She looked considerably more comfortable than when she’d entered the home but still rather worn. The outfit of Hermione’s she donned seemed to swallow her, though they’d always been close to the same size. Ron was pleased to see the mark on her face had been all but healed, and the tip of the bruise he’d spied earlier on her collar bone was fading to yellow. She smiled at Ron and Harry who were still settled down on the couch, and took her place between them, beaming at them both.

“Ron, tell me about about that ring on Hermione’s finger, she wouldn’t say.” Ginny’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Did you finally gather the courage and marry her?”

He could feel himself flush and made to hide his own left hand though it was much too late. “It’s not a marriage exactly,” he sputtered, unsure of how to explain what had happened without involving Harry. “I mean we are together.”

Ginny reached for his hand which was poorly hidden beside him and looked triumphantly at the ring. Ron could see Harry shifting in his own seat as if unable to determine wether it was better to hide his own hand.

“What do you mean not exactly?” Ginny demanded. “Go on, don’t try and hide this from me. There isn’t a lot of happy news now a days, you have to spread whatever joy you have.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably and then cleared his throat. “Harry, why don’t you take this one? I think Hermione’s calling my name.”

Harry’s eyes went wide but before he could argue Ron had already gotten to his feet and was out of the room, aware of Harry’s eyes shooting daggers at his backside. Hermione was standing at the counter over a cutting board with her knife hand hovering in midair as if she had paused in the middle of a chop.

“Why don’t you just charm it?” Ron asked of her as he walked over towards her.

Hermione, who looked as though she was thinking through something very hard, jumped slightly and then nodded distractedly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. She set down the knife never the less and Ron waved his wand as she dried her hands on a towel.

“Ginny saw our rings,” Ron offered as an explanation as he moved closer to Hermione. “I figured it would be best coming from Harry.”

Hermione smiled up at him as if the deep thought had never occurred. “I’m sure he’ll find a way to return the favor.”

Ron laughed, aware of Harry’s low and calm tones in the other room. “What’s he going to do? It’s not like he can tell the girl I fancy.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you fancied someone,” Hermione teased, moving closer to him. “When were you going to let me in on the secret?”

Ron felt a pleasant feeling rush through him. It still always came as a surprise to him when Hermione began to flirt with him. Used to their romantic interactions being quiet and easily mistaken for something else, he still was not used to when she became so bold. He moved closer to her, not quiet touching but close enough that he could hear her breathing.

“Well she’s this cute bookish girl,” he answered, enjoying how she smiled up at him. “Bit of a know it all really.”

Hermione shook her head, wrapping her arms around his waist as she giggled. In the other room, they could hear Ginny’s slightly raised voice, talking very quickly.

“It’s a good thing Ginny loves you,” Ron commented after giving Hermione a kiss. “There’s no one else in the world I think she’d be okay with this.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in her being alright with it,” Hermione commented, giving him a squeeze before removing her arms from his middle so she could return to the cooking. “I wouldn’t be alright with you marrying anyone else.”

“What if I’d run off and married Harry?” he asked, just to be difficult.

“We both know we’d do anything for Harry. But that’s different,” she replied. “Besides, Ginny isn’t as close to me as you are to Harry.”

Ron knew she had a point and dropped it. He strained his ears to overhear the conversation in the other room but they’d returned to their low tones. It was a good sign at least for her not to be yelling.

Ginny was tightlipped when she came into the room, eyeing him up and down and for a moment he found himself cowering behind Hermione.

“Ginny,” Ron said hesitantly. “I understand if you’re upset.”

Her facade broke and she had an easy grin on her face.

“You did what you had to do, didn’t you?” Ginny asked, waving off the thought. “We’ve all made plenty of sacrifices for this war.”

It was all she seemed to want to say on the subject, settling down at the table and scarcely waiting for them before digging into the food Hermione had prepared.

“How is everyone?” Ron asked as the meal finished, unable to help the eagerness in his voice. “Mum Dad?”

They were still gathered around the table in the kitchen, the remains of their dinner before them. Ginny had eaten more than any of them, swallowing almost half a loaf of bread as quickly as Ron could slice it. Some color was now returning to her face and Ron even thought her face looked a little fuller. The meal had left little time for talking.

Ginny’s defeated look gave it away. Gingerly, and with shaking hands, she replaced her cup of tea onto the table and opened her mouth only to admit a horrible choking noise.

“No,” Ron breathed, staring at his sister with disbelieving eyes. “You can’t be serious…no.”

Vaguely he was aware of Hermione’s hand on his thigh and could feel her staring at him.

“We’re it,” Ginny finally managed, her voice sounding detached. “There’s no one else left.”

He had know, or rather suspected, but the notion that no one else had managed to survive was far to painful to believe. Remembering her desperate pounding on the door, he recalled the words she’d screamed which had seem so inconsequential at the time. _I can’t be the only one left._ His chest ached.

“How?” he managed.

Ginny shook her head rapidly, wiping the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I can’t, not tonight.”

Harry put his arm around her shoulder to reassure her and she turned to bury her face into his chest. Ron nodded, not sure he would be able to comprehend anything she would tell him. He let out a long breath and put his hand over Hermione’s.

“It’s okay,” he told Ginny.

Ginny gave him a watery smile.

“I’m exhausted,” she admitted to him.

The look in her eyes reminded him of how hollow Harry had looked when they’d first arrived at the home. Ron supposed he had too, but even in his worry for Hermione, it had always struck him to one evening look up at Harry fresh out of the shower, his ribs visible even through his sweater. Ron had watched his friend wither away bit by bit over the years but something about being in a proper home made it all stand out.

“I’ll set you up in my room,” Harry said at once, giving her a squeeze before standing up from the table and departing from the room.

Ginny rose to follow and helplessly Ron pulled her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered to her. Ginny sniffled, smiling up at him before following Harry from the room. Ron sank back into his chair and watched her retreating form disappear around the corner.

He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him, but mercifully she didn’t ask him what he was thinking or how he was. Ron didn’t think he could manage a conversation about his feelings at the moment.

“I’ll get the dishes,” she told him in a soft voice, squeezing his shoulder as he stood. “You stay here.”

“I’ll help,” he told her at once. It would be nice to keep his hands busy.

Harry returned a few minutes later, he looked as tired as Ron felt, but went to work automatically, fetching a soapy dishrag and washing the table. Between the three of them, the work was done quickly and they retired back to the living room. The found themselves on the same positions on the couch they had been in when Ginny had interrupted their day; Hermione at one end of the couch, flipping through a book, Ron in the middle, his arm around her and Harry occupying the other end. It seemed impossible to Ron that only a few hours had passed since his sister had appeared. It felt like a lifetime.

Hermione resumed the book she had been reading, and Ron pulled her feet into his lap. It felt good to feel her weight against him.

“How did Ginny take the marriage?” Ron asked of Harry who was staring into the fire.

Harry blinked at him and then grinned. “As well as could be expected. I don’t think anyone would be pleased to learn their ex-boyfriend had married their brother.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty low, even for me.”

Harry chuckled, but didn’t seem up for more conversation and instead resumed his staring into the fire.

Ron could feel his body itching for sleep, but his mind was still racing, his emotions bouncing all over the place. In one moment the joy he felt was uncontainable, and in the next, he was reminded of the demise of his family and the joy was replaced by sorrow. Idly he thought of the bell jar they’d run across in the Department of Mysteries where they’d watched the bird hatch, fly up and return to it’s unbirthed state. It was how he felt now, elated and then deflated with time passing rapidly.

Though none of them spoke, their presence was comforting and he felt a longing when Harry stood to bid them goodnight.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked of him.

“To my room,” Harry answered in a tone which made him think it was a question with an obvious answer.

“Ginny’s in there,” Ron pointed out.

“Yes,” Harry answered in the same condescending tone.

“I thought you were kipping on the couch or something,” Ron said, moving to stand but felt Hermione’s legspress against his lap, making it difficult to get up more than a few inches.“You’re not sleeping in the same room as her.”

Harry stared at him for a moment as if trying to determine if he was making a bad joke before deciding he wasn’t. “You can’t be serious.”

“Like hell!” he said, trying to move again but found himself again trapped.

“You sleep with Hermione,” Harry replied, gesturing to Hermione.

“That’s different,” Ron dismissed him at once.

“How? Ginny and I were together a lot longer than you and Hermione have been,” Harry argued.

“That’s not the point,” Ron said, knowing it was illogical to try and prevent his twenty year old sister from sleeping in the same bed as her boyfriend, his best friend. “Me sleeping with Hermione is completely different.”

“How?” Harry questioned.

Ron held up a finger on his left hand. Again Harry stared at him as if trying to understand the joke. “You can’t be serious.”

“And what if I am?” he asked, trying to stand once more. Again Hermione pressed what seemed to be her full body weight into his lap. Irritated he snapped at her, “Hermione, will you move?”

Hermione rolled her eyes before finally moving her legs and standing up. “Fine, I’ll go and sleep with Ginny then.”

“No!” they both shouted at once.

“Fine,” she said, with wide eyes. “I’m just going to bed and I don’t care who comes and sleeps with me, because either way I’ll be married to the man I’m sharing my bed with.”

Pleased with herself she bent down to give Ron a reluctant kiss and squeezed Harry’s arm as she passed.

“What’s so ridiculous about me sharing a bed with her?” Harry questioned before Hermione was even out of sight.

“Do you love her?” Ron questioned.

“I haven’t seen her in years,” Harry replied, avoiding the question. “And you get to see Hermione every day.”

Feeling his heart soften, he glared at Harry for a moment more. Ron wished he had a better argument, wished they were seventeen again and could truly argue how inappropriate it was, but Harry had a point. Ron knew he was being overprotective and wished Harry would just give in and allow him to watch over his sister just this once.

“Fine,” Ron muttered. “But no funny business.”

Harry seem surprised to have resolved the argument so quickly. He nodded seriously. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”

“I swear if I hear anything-“

“She’s already asleep Ron,” said Harry. “Besides, wouldn’t you like someone watching over her?”

Again, Ron found himself soften. He waved Harry away dismissively. “Alright, go on then before I change my mind.”

Harry hovered for a moment, before walking back over to Ron and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, to hear about your family.”

His throat hurt as he nodded. “Yeah,” Ron managed, looking up to find Harry’s eyes redrimmed. It washed over him again and suddenly he found himself wondering if it wouldn’t have been better not to know. “It’s not your fault, you know that, yeah?”

Harry nodded, but Ron knew he didn’t believe him. He forced himself to stand and embraced Harry. “Not your fault mate,” Ron repeated, gripping at him for a moment. It felt purposeful, having Harry in his arms. He kept his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they separated and with a flick of his wand to extinguished the lights together they disappeared down the hall.


	4. News from Outside of the Bubble

When he entered the bedroom, Hermione was still awake with a book open in her lap and Ron can tell right away she wasn’t reading. As soon as she noticed him, she gave a warm smile, closing the book and leaning over to kiss him. He could feel her eyes on him as he changed into his night clothes but waited until he joined her in bed before saying anything.

“It’s a lot isn’t it?” she started as he put his arm around her.

The ball of stress in his stomach that he’d been actively ignoring all day suddenly felt very tight. The words that Ginny had screamed at the door, echo around in his brain. “ _I can’t be the only one_ ”. Over the past few years, he’d done his best to ignore what was happening around them. The deaths they’d heard whispers of seemed so far away. Whenever Ron had dedicated much time to think about it, trying to figure out how this had happened and why they had to die, he had felt himself detaching from the mission at hand. So instead of mourning, instead of keeping track as one by one they were killed off, Ron had given all of his focus to the mission at hand. Protect Harry, destroy Horcruxes and ultimately vanquish He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all.

“Ron?” Hermione said softly, pulling from his thoughts.

“I think I knew,” he told her. “When Abe brought us here, the way he spoke—“

Ron filled her in on the conversation he’d had with Abe when he deposited them at the home. At the time Ron had been so wrapped up on caring for Hermione he’d dismissed Abe’s comments as someone who was very bitter and pessimistic about the war. Now, the comments about no one coming to rescue them seemed like an honest evaluation. And when he’d suggested they’d be killed if they were ever foolish enough to leave the residence again, seemed less like a warning and more of a central truth. If they left the home, Ron was certain they’d all be killed.

Hermione listened quietly with apt attention. When he finished, she kissed the side of his cheek and tightened her arms around him.

“How are you handling this?” he asked her, wanting to sift his focus from his own emotions.

“I’m okay,” she said right away, and before he could press her about the distant looks she’d been giving all day, she began kissing him.

It was pleasant, and Ron distracted himself with her, running her hands through her hair and relishing in her soft skin. Deep down he knew she was avoiding something, but for once he didn’t mind. It was nice to keep his mind from spinning for a moment. Usually, it was Hermione who stopped them, they were after all still in the beginning stages of their physical relationship, but tonight, halfway through undressing, Ron found himself so distracted he could not continue.

The overwhelming sadness he had been trying to push off could no longer be ignored. Ron could feel Hermione watching him as they replaced their shirts, but he was unsure of how exactly to communicate his feelings without completely breaking down. He was grateful when Hermione didn’t ask, but simply lay her head on his chest and listened to his rapid heartbeat.

“Hermione,” he whispered after a lengthy silence, not entirely certain she was still awake.

To his surprise, she raised her head right away and looked at him expectantly.

“When this is over, we’ll have a family right?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Ron realized it was quite presumptuous to propose a family to a woman whom he’d only been formally dating for a few weeks. This thought didn’t seem to occur to Hermione however who nodded automatically and smiled.

“Of course Ron,” she told him and at these words, the last strand inside him snapped.

He was aware of the tears racing down his face and he hugged Hermione as close as he could without hurting her. The thoughts he’d been trying to ignore washed over him in wave after wave of painful realization. He was one of two true Weasley’s left. He’d entered the war with six siblings and only one of them remained. There was no end in sight to the war they were facing, and they were the only people who could stop it. The people hiding away in a cabin with dwindling supplies and no one on the outside they could even ask for help. For perhaps a quarter of an hour he cried, exhausting himself, but he was thankful he wasn’t alone. Hermione gently stroked his hair until he settled down, thinking instead of the family he and Hermione would share until he finally drifted off.

Had he stayed awake he would have known that for a long time after Hermione remained awake, staring blankly at the wall and trying to devise a plan.

 

Ron awoke the next morning to an empty bed and in the kitchen found Hermione and Ginny sitting at the table, talking in low voices. They appeared to be arguing over something and Ron wondered if Ginny hadn’t been as understanding about the binding charm they’d used as she’d initially seemed. When he entered they stopped talking abruptly, Hermione greeting him with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes and hurried off to make him a cup of tea.

“How’d you sleep?” Ron asked of Ginny, taking the seat beside her.

Ginny merely gave him a smile, reaching over to stroke his face as if she couldn’t really believe he was there. “Fine,” she said warmly. “You?”

Ron nodded, looking over at Hermione who had her back to them.

“Is everything alright?” Ron asked Ginny in a low voice, trying to discern why they’d been so serious when he’d entered.

Ginny bit her lip and nodded. “Everything’s fine.”

“Because you have a right to be upset about the whole-“ he paused, not wanting to say marriage again. “Charm, thing.”

“Honestly Ron, it’s not like you’re involved with Harry or anything.” She said philosophically though she paused as if waiting for him to contradict her before continuing happily,“Besides, we dated for a month five years ago. A lot has changed since.”

“He still has feelings for you,” Ron prompted her.

“You don’t know that,” Ginny said, but she looked rather pleased.

“Sure I do,” Ron went on. “He’s my best mate and he’s hardly had the time to have feelings for anyone else.”

“Besides you,” Ginny teased, giving her thanks as Hermione rejoined them, refilling Ginny’s cup.

Ron rolled her eyes at her, looking instead at Hermione who Ron noticed looked rather disheveled. He hadn’t heard her get up in the morning and wondered for a moment whether she’d slept at all.

“What were you talking about before I interrupted?” Ron asked of them.

Hermione and Ginny shared a worried look and Ron was now positive that there was something they weren’t telling him.

“Ginny was just telling me about some of our old classmates,” Hermione said quickly and Ginny gave her an exasperated look.

“Right,” Ginny said, giving far too long of a pause as she stared at Hermione.

Before she could recover she was saved by the appearance of Harry, frenzied as he sped into the kitchen, intense relief on his face at the sight of them.

“He wakes up like this every morning,” Hermione said gently to Ginny’s alarmed look.

“It’s weird being in a house after so long,” Harry mumbled, looking embarrassed as he took the seat beside Hermione.

“Anyway, now that we’re all here, maybe you can fill me in on where you’ve run off too,” Ginny said brightly.

It was Hermione’s turn to glare at her, tightlipped as she summoned another mug for Harry.

“Well, we’ve been hunting-“ Harry launched into the story at once.

“Harry,” Hermione warned in an accusatory voice.

He looked over at her and rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to say it.” He spat at her before turning back to Ginny with a much gentler expression. “We’ve been hunting something, something that will help us defeat Voldemort.”

“And have you found it?” Ginny asked at once.

“Parts of it,” Harry said. “But there’s still two more we have to destroy before we stand a chance at defeating him.” 

“I’d gathered as much,” Ginny said dryly “Do you have any idea where the remaining pieces are?”

Harry shook his head, looking over to Hermione for a better answer.

“We found the first one right away, the others have been much more tricky.” Hermione continued. “We’ve tried to stay out of the fighting, keep our heads down, but the more followers he gains, the harder it’s been to even get information. Everyone thinks they know something and true intelligence it much harder to discern.”

“We were trying to get into Gringotts, and we’d been casing the place, hiding in the buildings and pushing the curfew detection as far as we could,” Ron said. “One night we pushed it too far, and the next thing we knew they’d placed a tracking spell on us.”

“We ran for days,” Harry continued without a breath between their words. “Trying to shake it, shake them. We had to get rid of almost everything we had because it just wouldn’t stop and the best Hermione could figure they’d placed it on something, not on us. We ended up in the woods, just the three of us, no tent, no supplies, but they didn’t come and we were exhausted and freezing so we had to risk it. We kipped under the invisibility cloak, fearful to even light a fire. I was on guard, and I must have dozed off…”

He trailed off, unable to look Hermione in the eye. Hermione gave a soft smile and reached over to grasp his hand. “Evidently we hadn’t shaken them though, because we awoke to an ambush. Thankfully the group tracking us had gained enough attention that some of our side were following them. The battle was mad, no one knew who they were fighting, but Dolohov managed to get me. He knocked me out and the next thing I knew I was here.”

“Abe came to our rescue,” Ron resumed the tale. “He brought us here, but Hermione was in bad shape. Whatever that spell was, it was draining her magic. Every day she got colder and sicker. For two months, Harry and I just watched as she lay dying.”

There was a pause as Ron felt the lump in his throat return.

“That spell was our last hope.” Ron continued, unable to shake the image of her laying in that bed and the days and days they’d been forced to watch her die. “And thankfully it worked.”

“How long have you been here?” Ginny asked, watching how they interacted with one another with careful eyes.

“About five, six months,” Ron answered. He took several breaths. He wasn’t ready to hear Ginny’s side of the tale, knowing the ending. But there was no circumventing it. No matter how long he waited, it would not change the ending.

“What happened?” Ron asked, forcing himself to look up at his sister. “What happened to everyone else?”

Ginny looked uncomfortably back at him. It seemed just by these words her demeanor had completely changed. Her eyes were hooded and when she spoke her voice sounded much more distant.

“About a year after you left, dad went to work one day and didn’t come home. We were all staying at Auntie Muriel at the time, and evidently, they forced it out of them because a month later the ministry was at our doorstep. George took me away before I knew what was happening, but mum and Fred,” Ginny choked, shaking her head.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, tears leaking down Ginny’s cheeks but when she continued her voice was far away again. “Fleur became pregnant almost right after, she and Bill hid away, somewhere even we didn’t know. It wasn’t safe anymore, not even to tell family where you were. But Audrey, Percy’s wife, found them. She and Percy had this huge fight because she’d discovered she was pregnant and she wanted out, wanted to go to them. Audrey begged him to leave with her. From what we intercepted he followed her there and murdered them all.”

“What?” Ron asked. Even though his brother was a prat he couldn’t imagine him betraying any of them like that. How could someone possibly do that to their family, let alone a woman he’d loved. His grip on Hermione tightened without him knowing.

Ginny was shaking her head now, her voice becoming less steady. “It wasn’t true. They’d gone deeper into hiding, of course, Bill, Fleur, and Audrey. But we had no way of knowing. Charlie went after Percy, found out that he’s the one who had sent her there, trying to keep her safe. Trying to exact revenge Charlie blew their cover. By the time Charlie realized Percy was telling the truth it was too late. We didn’t have the time to warn Bill, what we found of them was barely human.”

“Charlie never forgave himself, he became really reckless and started talking about breaking into Gringotts. He’d heard a rumor you were trying to break in and wanted to give it a shot. We haven’t heard from him since.

“We were,” Harry confirmed in a quiet voice. “Trying to break into Gringotts. Charlie found us, he helped us. But he, he never made it out.”

Ginny looked at him for a long moment. “Did you ever get what you were looking for?”

Harry shook his head. This didn’t seem to comfort Ginny who sighed, unable to look at any of them for a moment and then continued.

“It’s just been George and I, ever since Mum and Fred. We heard about the battle you three had with the Death Eaters but we couldn’t get there in time. Neville, told us a rumor about Abe whisking you away and he’s the one who tracked down Abe’s things. Before-“

She paused, but there was no need to finish her statement. “There were about a dozen safe houses, and it took George and me a long time to get here, most of them are tricked so you can’t get in using magic.”

“Where is George?” Ron asked, knowing what was coming but holding hope all the same.

“At the last place, we had a skirmish with some death eaters and they sent the dementors after us.” She said without emotion. “We’d always agreed there was no point in living without a soul.”

“Ginny,” Ron breathed, burying his hands in his face.

“The magic they’re doing to hunt down you three is really complex. It’s from old texts, medieval even.” Ginny continued. “There’s massive armies of inferni they use them to terrorize the living.”

“You’re not telling me you’re dead are you?” Ron joked, trying to relieve the tension in the room.

Ginny smiled sadly at him. “Not yet.”

Across the table he watched Harry shift in his seat and ask, “What about the others, anyone from the order?”

Ginny shook her head. Ron had figured this was coming, each of the battles they fought in they seemed to be aided by fewer and fewer. Abe had said as much when he’d placed him here, _“Don’t expect anyone to come for you._ ” had been his ominous parting words.

“If they don’t think they have information on you three they don’t even bother with trying to capture anyone anymore. As soon as they know where you’re staying, even if they just suspect someone is there, they burn the whole place to the ground. Whole innocent muggle villages have gone up in flames while they stand just outside the premier and watch people burn.”

“We tried to help at first, we really did, but there were so few of us left and showing our faces just put a target on our back.” Her voice was frantic for a moment and then she sighed in defeat, “It’s better to let them think we’re dead so we’ve barely communicated even with one another.”

It was all too much. Ron found it impossible to take in anything at all as he stared at Ginny and then over to Harry and Hermione who wore equal expressions of defeat.

“So the war is lost,” Ron said hopelessly, begging any of them to contradict him.

“You said it yourselves,” Ginny said quietly. “Until you solve whatever it is you need to be solved then there’s really no hope-“

She stopped abruptly and Ron looked up just in time to watch in horror as she slumped backward as if all the bones had left her body.

“Ginny?” Ron asked in alarm, reaching out to catch her before she slipped from her chair. “Ginny!”

 

 


	5. Dying Woman's Wish

Ginny was passed out for perhaps a quarter of an hour before finally coming to. Ron found himself pacing nervously as Harry and Hermione did their best to revive her. Finally, she opened her eyes, gasping for air before succumbing to a wet cough that shook her whole body. Hermione banished them both from the room in order to give Ginny a full evaluation.

The stationed themselves on either side of the door, wands gripped in their hands out of habit for the not coming attack. They could hear a muffled conversation, it sounded rather serious but was punctuated with brief spurts of laughter. What Ginny could be sick with was beyond him, but if anyone could fix her, Ron knew her best shot was with Hermione. Another twenty minutes passed and Hermione emerged, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes that Ron wasn’t entirely sure were from sadness or laughter.

She avoided his eyes and looked instead at Harry. “She’s asked to see you first.”

Harry hurried into the room, shutting the door behind him. For a second Ron could hear their conversation, but a moment later there was nothing.  Apparently, someone had cast a spell to prevent them from overhearing. Left with no other option he rounded on Hermione, intent to make her tell him what was going on, advise him on what to do next to save her.

The look on Hermione’s face told him everything and he softened though his heart pounded still very loudly in his chest.

“She was very sick when she arrived,” Hermione told him softly as way of explanation. “I’ve tried everything, but there was nothing anyone could have done.”

Ron stared at her. How could she have kept this from him? “Did you tell her?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “She already knew. If she hadn’t found us when she did she wouldn’t have lasted the night.”

He could feel himself staring at her, open-mouthed but when she reached out to gently stroke his face he stepped back, shaking his head at her.

“Ron,” she breathed, “I did everything I could.”

How could she have given up on his sister when he hadn’t given up on her? Ron could feel his sadness and shock slowly turning into anger. It began to bubble in the pit of his stomach and he began to shake.

“I fixed you,” Ron snarled in the softest voice he could manage, not wanting Ginny to know how angry he was. “I found a way and you-“ No nice word was coming to him. He wanted to yell, rage at her, but he restrained himself. “Why can’t we just use the spell and-“

“We can’t,” Hermione pleaded at once.

“You and Harry!” he insisted, voice growing louder. “The two of you can.”

“Ron, our union is lasting. There’s no way to dissolve it,” she explained quickly, a fearful look in her eyes. “Even if there was a way, it wouldn’t help. Her problem isn’t magical. Her body is shutting down, it’s barely being held together as it is. There is nothing I can do for her.”

“Figure something out!” he screamed. “I can’t be the last Weasley! She’s my baby sister, you have to do something!”

Hermione was now fighting tears. Ron knew his anger was misplaced, but it felt like all he’d done since leaving home was take care of her and Harry and now the one time he was asking for her help she wasn’t giving it to him.

“Do something!” he shouted again. “There has to be something in one of your books, all you do is read anyway!”

“Ron,” Harry said in a low, warning voice.

He hadn’t heard the door open. Ron whipped around to tell Harry to leave the situation alone, only to look past him to see Ginny staring with a stern face. The tears in Hermione’s eyes were now falling and racing down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something perhaps but instead ducked away down the hallway.

“It’s your turn,” Harry told him, glaring at him as he followed Hermione into the other bedroom.

Ashamed now at his reaction, and even more that they’d been overheard, Ron bowed his head and entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

“She finally told you?” Ginny asked of him. “I didn’t think she’d be able to keep a secret from you.”

“Ginny, I-“

“I told her to keep it from you,” she told him seriously. “if you want to scream at someone, scream at me.”

Ron could feel his neck burning with shame and crossed over to sit on Ginny’s bed, watching her with a brotherly expression. “Why?”

“I wanted a few good days with you,” Ginny told him, reaching for his hands and squeezing them. “Something good for you to remember me by.”

“There has to be something more we can do,” he insisted. “Something else Hermione can try.”

Ginny shook her head. “There’s nothing more to be done. Please don’t fight with Hermione because of me. I know how much you both love one another, I don’t want you to be cross with her every time you think of me.”

Ron felt his guilt pile on and wished he hadn’t reacted so poorly. His emotions were still rushing through him, changing with every thought he had. Finally, they seemed to settle on grief as the reality sunk in. Ginny was dying and no amount of anger or wishing would change that. Soon he’d be all alone.

“I can’t be the only one,” Ron said, echoing the words Ginny had screamed through their door on the day she’d finally found him. “I can’t be the last Weasley.”

“You should have made Harry and Hermione change their names,” Ginny teased. “Then the burden wouldn’t all be on you.”

Ron felt himself smile for the first time and immediately felt an aching in his chest. Logically he knew he should be the one comforting Ginny. She was the one who had witnessed as one by one their family was murdered. She was the one who had been fighting, without knowing an end or the means to it. And after being all alone, not knowingwhetherr or not he was alive, she had finally found him, found someone to hold her as she passed and he was the one who was making a fool out of himself.

Gingerly he climbed into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her closely. It had been years since he had sat in a bed with her, before Hogwarts when she had been his best friend and she had begged him not to leave her for school. She felt just as fragile in his arms, and he wished more than anything to be able to steal her fate from her and make it his own.

“Do you think there’s an afterlife?” Ginny whispered. “There has to be something after this, right?”

“I hope so,” Ron answered honestly, it seemed far too cruel for them all to have gone through this with no reward. “Though who knows, this sure feels a lot like hell.”

“I think you’re a bit too in love to be in Hell.” Ginny teased.

Ron laughed, and another thought struck him. “Tell Bill he was right, about Hermione.”

“Ron, we all knew about Hermione.” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Ron could feel himself flush with embarrassment. “Was it that obvious?”

“To everyone but you.”

Ron hid his face for a moment. “Well, Bill was the only one who ever talked to me about it, you all were cowards.”

Ginny laughed, it quickly dissolving into a cough. The smile faded from Ron’s face. He stared at her, trying to memorize her face. He was struck with the realization that once she was gone, he would have no proof of his family but in his memories. All of their pictures had long since been destroyed and he’d no way to take her picture now. No way to preserve her.

“It’s going to be okay,” she assured him, “I promise. I just don’t have any fight left in me.”

Ron gripped her more tightly, kissing the top of her head. “Tell mum and dad, despite everything else, I’m really happy. With Hermione and Harry. We’re okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed with a smile. “Look after Harry for me? He can’t do this on his own.”

“I know,” Ron answered. “That’s why Hermione and I are here, to watch after him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Ginny said, struggling to communicate how she was feeling. “Not the war. I mean, you have to be there for him, really be there. I don’t think he’ll ever really recover after all this is over.”

“I don’t think any of us will ever really recover,” Ron agreed. “We’re not the same people who entered this war. Hell, we were just children when it all started.”

Ginny paused, thinking something through. She had a hard look on her face when she looked up at him to confess, “I love Harry, I’ll always love Harry. But our time together was so short. It would be really unfair if he didn’t get a great love. You can’t just let him spend his life mourning me and thinking I was his soulmate .”

“You sure think a lot of yourself.” Ron teased.

“I’m serious,” Ginny told him. “Harry has the worst hero’s complex I’ve ever seen. You can’t allow him to spend the rest of his life forcing himself to be unhappy as the result of falling in love at sixteen.”

Ron hadn’t thought so far as Harry finding someone to fall in love with after the war. The war ending seemed so foreign that even the idea of he and Hermione’s life after was more like wishful thinking than an actual goal.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “I can’t force him to fall in love with someone else.”

“You’re his husband.” Ginny answered. “Make him.”

He felt himself rolling his eyes at that logic. “Alright, I’ll start going up to girls on the street as soon as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is in the ground asking if they fancy dinner with the man I married.”

Ginny hit at him, a sour look on her face. They laughed together again but a sad look fell over Ginny’s face. “You know, no one has ever loved me as much as they love you.”

“I love you,” Ron said at once.

“Not like you love them.” Ginny shot back. “Just make up with Hermione alright? No one is ever going to love you like she does.”

“Can’t I just stay in here with you?” he asked, rather dreading the thought of having to go and apologize for his awful outburst. Ginny was right, Hermione hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You can’t deny a dying woman’s wish Ronald Billius Weasley.” Ginny told him in a voice so reminiscent of their mother that they were both sad for a second. “Go on, don’t let me die knowing you two are cross with one another.”

Reluctantly, Ron allowed himself to be pushed from the bed and after checking her over one last time, left Ginny alone. He could hear Harry and Hermione talking in low voices, but Hermione didn’t sound like she was crying anymore at the least. When he knocked on the partially closed door he saw them sitting side by side. They stopped talking the moment he pushed open the door and looked up at him expectantly. Rather wishing Harry would leave for this moment, Ron turned to Hermione.

“Hermione, I’m sorry.” He said at once, the words he felt as though he was always saying to her, or needing to say to her. “I know you’ve been doing all you can and it wasn’t right for me to take it out on you.”

Hermione looked at Harry as if to confirm it was an appropriate apology and then opened her arms to him, inviting him to sit towards the foot of the bed beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and they leaned on one another. Hermione felt warm in his arms.

“You should go,” he told Harry over the top of Hermione’s head.“Spend some time with her before-“ but he was unable to finish that thought. Harry looked over concerned and before Ron could help himself he croaked. “I can’t believe I’m going to be the only Weasley.”

 

 

 

 

 


	6. The Last Weasley

By the time Ron had returned to Ginny’s room, washing his face with cold water and spending a long moment staring himself in the mirror, Ginny was already fading. She smiled when he entered, Harry was lying close to her, their hands intertwined. Hermione was perched at the end of the bed, and when he joined the mess of limbs and people Ron could feel all of their emotions palpating.

As her breathing slowed and the moments she spent coughing increased, Ron found himself again staring at her, trying to memorize her face and knowing after this moment he’d never see it again. He expected final wishes of her but it seemed everything that had needed to be said had. 

When the sun rose, dim light filtering into the room, Ginny’s chest rose and fell in slow, raspy breaths, until finally her eyes closed and did not open again.

Ron was unsure for how long they remained there, suspended in the time between watching her die and the moment it truly hit him. Perhaps an hour had passed, or only a few minutes when he heard Hermione’s voice from far away firmly say, “We should destroy the body.”

Something inside him stared, a conversation he thought he’d dreamed. Slowly he raised his head to gape at Hermione. How could she be so callous? But her face was wet with tears and grief, she wasn’t trying to rid of Ginny. Hermione was doing her a kindness.

“We can hardly bury her,” Hermione croaked at his angry expression. “This way we can be certain.”

Ron was never exactly sure what there was to be certain of. Nevertheless, he pressed his lips to his sister’s cold forehead, ensured her eyes were closed and detangled himself from her lifeless body. He was aware of Harry echoing his actions, emitting guttural cry as his hand left her’s a final time and he joined Ron on the side of the bed, his body trembling with grief.

Hermione was the last to join them, standing between them and with a determined look on her face. Three deliberate spells later, and all that was left of Ginny was the falling covers.

 

The shower he took after their short ceremony was the longest he could remember. Part of him felt guilty for showering off the smell of death. He felt as though he was erasing the skin which last held her. He stayed under the fiery jets until his skin was red and raw but when he stepped out he still felt frozen.

Harry was waiting for him in the living room with a newly opened bottle of fire whiskey. Neither of them spoke as they poured glass after glass. Ron was grateful that Harry didn’t point out the tears on his face. Ron returned the favor. They were halfway through the bottle when Hermione came wandering in the room. Ron expected her to chastise them, he knew it wasn’t the most appropriate form of expressing grief. Instead, she sat down on his lap and draped her arms around his shoulders. Like the fire whiskey, her weight made his skin feel warm.

When he found himself unable to keep his eyes open any longer, Hermione guided them back to the bedroom, wrapping the blankets tightly around him and conforming to his side. She brushed his hair with her fingers and he wept into her chest. Ron knew he’d fallen asleep only when he awoke in a different position, Hermione’s hand still on his chest as if to ensure he was breathing. It took him a moment to realize what had awoken him but found Harry hovering in the doorway, a miserable expression on his face.

“The room still smells like her,” Harry offered in way of explanation and added in a somber voice. “Like death.”

Wordlessly, Ron raised the edge of the covers inviting him in. Harry hesitated for a long moment before joining them, slipping underneath the covers on the other side of Hermione and facing away from them both. Though the bed was hardly big enough for the three of them, Harry managed to lay without touching either of them.

 

 

 

Somewhere in his dreams, he heard Harry and Hermione’s voices and when he rose to consciousness it was to an altered sleeping arrangement. Ron still found himself with the back to the wall but Harry was closest to him, occupying the middle of the bed.Ron marveled how even in-between them Harry was able to lay with no contact. It seemed Hermione was returning from the loo, her arms wrapped tightly around her as she climbed under the covers Harry had lifted for her.

He struggled to make sense of what they were saying but lay still as he heard Hermione whisper, “We are losing this war.”

“I know,” came Harry’s low reply.

Ron peaked open an eye to find Hermione with tear tracks down her face, watching Harry with a miserable expression. They lay in quiet for a long few moments. He saw Hermione glancing at him as if to make sure he was still asleep before continuing.

“I have an idea,” Hermione said hesitantly, “But it’s absolutely mad.”

“What is it?” Harry asked effortlessly. “At this point, I think we’ve got to resort to mad.”

Hermione chewed her bottom lip for a moment and then said very slowly.“We reset time, go back to our first year. I think it’s the only way we can buy ourselves enough time to stop him.”

“What like use a timeturner?” Harry asked stupidly, but there was a sense of hope in his voice.

“No,” Hermione answered at once. “A time turner wouldn’t help.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“Because, if we were to use a time turner then we could only act as background actors. We couldn’t change time as we know it. Besides, if we’d used a time turner then we would already know. So unless we show up here tomorrow with all of the Horcruxes in our arms, then there’s no way we can ever use one.”

The logic of this made his head hurt, but Hermione sounded confident and she was the only one to really understand the magic anyway.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said plainly. “What are you proposing then?”

“That we go back as our first-year selves. We and we alone would be able to retain everything that’s happened to us. It’ll buy us more time so we can figure out what the Horcruxes are and where we can find them. Not to mention how to destroy them.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed slowly. Ron could tell by his tone he didn’t believe her. “How would it work?”

“I don’t know yet,” Hermione admitted, biting her lip. “I’ve only got half of it worked out.”

Harry sighed. “Okay.”

Again Hermione glanced over at him and Ron made to look like it was asleep. “I don’t think we’ve got the spirit to go on any longer.”

Harry’s head tilted towards him but didn’t turn fully. “I don’t either.”

Ron was certain they were talking about him.

 

 

How they had managed to rearrange their sleeping pattern again without disturbing him was a mystery. Ron awoke to weak sunlight peaking through the blinds. Hermione was in his arms once more, her hair going up his nose and her slender frame engulfed by his body. His head was throbbing and he moaned in pain. Behind him, a person stirred and when he looked over in surprise it was Harry who had somehow managed to make his way to the other side of the bed. Ron could feel his head pounding as Harry shifted and a moment later he felt a glass of water pressed into his hands.

“Drink,” Harry’s rough voice instructed. “It will help.”

Gingerly Ron opened his eyes Harry was looking at him expectantly and Ron realized he had yet to drink from the glass which had been pressed in his hands. The water was somehow still cold and soothed his parched mouth and the pounding in his head.

“I’m glad Hermione had the foresight to get a glass of water,” Harry croaked out, an uneasy smirk on his face of someone trying to seem more at ease in a situation than they were.

Ron couldn’t manage to think of a response so instead offered the water to Harry who drank from it before setting it back on the nightstand. Before it occurred to Ron to offer thanks, or perhaps comment on how Harry had migrated to the other edge of the bed, in the night but Harry had already laid back down in the bed facing the window. Ron reached over Harry, pulling the curtains tightly shut and lay back down with his arm covering his eyes.

There was a memory floating just out of his reach from a conversation Hermione about time travel. Or had it been a dream? Everything seemed fuzzy to him. Ron wished to bury his face into the crook of Hermione’s neck and breathe her in but it seemed inappropriate with their best friend so close. And Hermione still seemed so small. Instead, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the shared sounds of breathing, slow and steady and he reminded himself that the world hadn’t ended yet.

 

 

Numb. The only word Ron could manage to conjure to describe his state of being in the days and weeks that followed. His normally heightened sense of awareness had suddenly dissipated. Even when Harry or Hermione would walk into a room, something he was usually hyperaware of, it took him seconds to register their presence. Even when he did it was hardly notable to him.

Ron would catch himself sitting in a room with them and halfway through a conversation realize they had been talking to him. Worse, after they left he had no clue what they’d been talking about. Nothing felt comfortable, not even sitting with them by the fire, eating dinner in the kitchen or even the long hot showers he had loved so much upon arriving at the home. The only thing which came easily to him was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and allowing his mind to disassociate with everything that was happening.

He knew time was passing without his noticing, or rather it wasn’t that he didn’t notice, it was that he didn’t care to keep track. Sometimes he tried to conjure emotions, the calming of a hot shower, the joy of tasting food or the bubbly feeling in the pit of his stomach he felt whenever Hermione walked in the room and smiled at him automatically. But he knew they weren’t real. That they were the result of his wishing.

The only time he felt anything other than the crushing numbness that had settled in his skin was when he was laying in bed and wordlessly Hermione would come and snuggle up against him, her hands rubbing his chest and hair and he could feel her warm body against his. It reminded him he was alive and as soon as this thought was realized grief would crash over him. Ron couldn’t count the number of times he cried in her arms. When it was over he wasn’t sure allowing the sadness to wash over him had helped.

Vaguely he was aware that Harry and Hermione were making plans without him. In the back of his mind, he was able to recall conversations about time-travel and Voldemort. He couldn’t quite make sense of them on his own and felt he should be paying more attention.

Often he awoke in the middle of the night to Harry and Hermione speaking in low voices about the scene they were concocting. Since the first night, when all of their hearts had been so heavy and Ron had invited Harry into their warmth, Harry hadn’t given up his place in their bed. Their positions were never fixed, someone was always rotating to the middle. More often than not it was Ron who found himself in the center, absorbing their warmth and comfort.

Ron knew he should be paying better attention to their plans, but their words were heavy and hard to follow. It was easier to simply drift back to sleep to the sounds of their voices or else tune them out as they sat in the living room. Their voices were like a comforting song he didn’t have to quite listen to in order to understand the meaning. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before they were evicted from their safe bubble. The war was still raging on, and supplies were dwindling.

When the time came that they asked him to go, Ron had determined he would shed his grief and focus again, give his full determination to ending the war that had claimed the lives of his family. The war which had killed his baby sister, his only sister, in his arms.

 


	7. Magic They Weren’t Supposed to Touch

“What are you cooking?” Ron asked as he wandered into the kitchen one afternoon.

Harry and Hermione stopped the low conversation they’d been having and looked up at him in surprise. Hermione made to cover the papers she’d been working on. She always covered them when he walked in the room, Ron wasn’t sure what she thought she was protecting him from. Not that he cared to look anyway.

“Some stew,” Harry said, standing up at once and rushing over to the stove in order to fuss over the pot that was happily bubbling away.

“Smells good,” Ron commented, feeling himself smile as he breathed in the hearty smell. It felt like home.

Harry grinned at the compliment, replacing the lid and leaned against the counter, watching him carefully.

“I thought we were out of meat,” Ron said, sensing a new sort of tension in the air as he joined Hermione at the table.

“I found some,” Harry said evasively as he shared a meaningful look with Hermione.

Ron stared at him, knowing he was being lied to and confused as to why it was over something so simple.

“How did you find meat?” he challenged and Harry blushed, turning away to avoid eye contact.

“We were saving it,” Harry muttered.

“Saving it for what?” Ron asked, positive now that there was something they weren’t sharing with him. “Why are you both acting so odd?”

Harry seemed unable to make eye contact with him and when he went to stare to Hermione she too was avoiding his eye.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s emoting we wanted to talk to you about,” Hermione said softly, biting her lip and staring down at the papers she had shoved into a pile. “I’m not sure if it’s ready but we’re almost out of food and—“

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep protecting me, Hermione.” Ron reached out, taking her hand. “I’ve known this was coming.”

He had, he’d been waiting for the day when they told him it was time to move on, move away from the place where his sister had drawn her last breath. Hermione seemed to sigh in relief and Harry was finally able to look back at them. Ron looked pointedly at the papers.

“What have you been working on?” he asked of her, “What’s the plan?”

Hermione squeezed his hand before removing her’s from his. Carefully she laid back out the diagrams she’d been fussing over. Expecting a new plan for hunting the remaining Horcruxes, or perhaps a plan to go on the attack against those who’d been hunting them, Ron was surprised to see the papers lined with calculations and charts, ancient runes and spells he’d never seen before.

Perplexed, Ron drew the closest paper closer to him to examine it more carefully.

“Hermione?” he asked, thoroughly impressed. “Are you inventing a spell?”

The corner’s of Hermione’s lips upturned and it was clear she was very pleased with herself. “Well, it’s not just a spell exactly.” She glanced at Harry for backup before whispering in a never the less confident voice. “I think- I’ve worked out a way for us to go back in time.”

He recalled a conversation months ago about time travel and spotted a diagram which reminded him of a time-turner. Ron had thought he’d dreamed it, or perhaps it had been wishful thinking, a way to escape the future they were trapped in. Openmouthed he stared at her.

“You’re barking,” he said finally. Now it was his turn to look at Harry for support. “This is mad, wizards can’t just travel back in time, not without a time turner and you’re not telling me you’ve figured out a way to make one of those.”

“No,” Hermione agreed softly.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry said with a grin.

“I know,” Hermione assured him. “I know this sounds crazy, and I wasn’t sure it could work that’s why I never brought it up with you. But I remember this book about how Hogwarts’ memory worked and how complicated it was to erase your records from it because places aren’t like people. We remember things in consecutive orders so if something hasn’t happened yet then we can’t remember it. But with places, with Hogwarts, even when using the time turner, Hogwarts still knows who you are and is aware of both times. You can’t make it just forget you.

“That’s how we were able to save Sirius, it’s not like when we traveled back in time our first path was erased, it’s just the second time space allowed us to exist again and act in a different part of the castle. So I thought, well what if I applied the same logic to humans. Instead of applying the magic to the space and it remembering both paths, we applied it to ourselves.”

All of this made his head spin. He stared at her, unsure of even where to being. Sensing this Hermione pulled the parchment from his hand and turned it over. She produced a quill as she set the fresh piece of paper down and drew a straight line.

“A time turner works like this,” she explained, stopping the quill at the end of the line. “We are on a path and a time turner allows us to go back,” she picked up the quill and placed it back at the start. “And create a second set of circumstances.” Hermione began to draw a second line just in the space above the first. “We still exist here, in the first timeline, we’re just able to do it again. And when we finish we’re both back in the same spot. Both timelines still exist, and the universe remembers both events happening as equals.”

“Okay,” he agreed, looking at her expectantly. “So what, we go back in time? We’ll just be younger and have to do all this over again.”

“Yes, only I’ve figured out a way for us to remember everything we’ve done.”

Ron stared hard at the parchment, slowly understanding.

“How will that help?” he asked, wondering how they were to get around the enormous flaw in the plan. “It won’t buy us much time at all if everyone just remembers what they’ve done. They’ll just do it again.”

“No,” Hermione grinned, shaking her head. “I’ve figured out a way to make it so we’re the only ones who remember.”

A chilling silence fell over them. Ron could almost feel the universe rippling over the change that was about to occur. This felt like magic they weren’t supposed to touch. It was dangerous and exciting.

“Just the three of us?” he confirmed, looking over at Harry who was beaming at them both.

“Thanks to this marriage you conned us into,” Harry said, holding up his left hand and waggling his ring finger at them.

It was the first time in weeks Harry didn’t look completely miserable, teasing him. Ron made sure Hermione was looking away and held up a finger of his own.

“We’ll go back to a clear memory, something very powerful that can draw us back.” She continued, her voice bubbling with excitement. “The day we got our letters, the day we knew we were going to Hogwarts. The day I knew I learned about magic and the day Harry realized there was something more in this world.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered. Hermione smiled at him, reaching out and stroking the side of his face. For the first time since Ginny had arrived at the home, he felt hope bubbling in his chest. “You are absolutely brilliant Hermione.”

She looked pleased with the compliment and took his hand into hers. “I know this is all mad and I’ve just finished the calculations. I wanted to give you more time but-“

“But we’re out of supplies,” Harry finished for her.

He was now busying himself with portioning out the stew into bowls. Though full of meat and whatever else Harry had managed to scrounge up, Ron was disappointed to see how small their portions were and with a pang of awareness, he realized that was all that was left.

Ron hadn’t been completely oblivious to their dwindling supply of food but was still surprised to learn that their time was out.

“You’re sure?” he asked Hermione who bit her lip but nodded. “Okay, brilliant. Let’s do it.”

Hermione smiled at him. “We thought we could have a nice dinner, the spell needs to happen at midnight. It’ll give us plenty of time to prepare.”

 

Ron watched as Hermione began to trace out a circle on the floor with her wand, burning it into the floorboards. Here and there she would mutter something as she carved intricate runes inside of the circle. She kept consulting the chart in her hands, biting her lip in concentration and checking over everything she did a dozen times.

For a moment Ron thought to ask what he should be wearing for such an occasion, but in the next moment realized that it hardly mattered as once her spell succeeded they wouldn’t be here anymore. They would go back to the day Harry had gotten his letter, they’d decided, to the day where Hagrid broke down his door and brought him into the world they had once loved.

It occurred to him all at once that when he awoke they wouldn’t be with him and after five years of having them endlessly by his side, it would be jarring to awake without them there. The thought made his throat feel tight but before he could clear it enough to voice his sentiment Hermione’s anxious expression distracted him.

“This could make the whole universe disappear,” Hermione whispered worriedly, her eyes wide and looking mad.

Ron was careful not to catch Harry’s eye. “Hermione, love, you’re an amazing witch but you’re not that powerful.”

“No,” Hermione said, gesturing over her shoulder to Harry. “But he is.”

Harry looked up in alarm and walked over to join them. “I’m not.”

Hermione gave a small smile. “I’ve felt your power ever since we did the spell. I don’t think you have any clue how powerful you really are Harry.”

Harry didn’t seem to know what to say and Ron could see his cheeks flushing. Hermione was tracing her wand over the symbols again, muttering to herself distractedly. Finally, she looked up at them both.

“Three minutes,” Harry told them, checking his watch.

“Okay,” Hermione said, trying to steady herself. “You both remember the incantation?”

“Yes Hermione,” they chorused.

It was all they’d done since dinner, rehearse the relatively simple spell, all things considered. The more complicated part was the timing, though Ron was certain Hermione had it timed to the millisecond.

“Alright, let’s get in position,” she said with nearly three minutes still to go.

She guided them into the circle of runes she’d drawn on the floor.

“I’ve never seen a spell with runes before Hermione,” Ron said as she fussed over how he was holding his arm. They were to be conjoined in the same way they’d been while casting the bonding spell, hands over wrists.

“It’s not used much anymore,” Hermione said, fussing now over Harry. “They aren’t magical in and of themselves, but they help enhance and direct whatever magic we do.”

“Ah,” he replied as Hermione positioned herself, setting her calculations on a side table, still open to the diagram.

He could see that she was about to go back and check again through her notes to ensure the work she’d done was pristine and he cut her off by putting his lips on hers forcefully. It had been days since he’d held her in his arms in a romantic way. Since Ginny had left them he’d hardly been in the frame of mind to want her. But now, on the precipice of their next move, he knew that he needed to remind her, remind himself of what they only just started. She kissed him back with enthusiasm, throwing her arms around his neck and only when they were breathless did they part, looking deeply into one another’s eyes.

“When this is over,” he told her firmly, not letting go of his grip around her waist.

“When this is over,” Hermione agreed with just as much emotion. He kissed her again, memorizing the still novel feeling of her lips on his and hurried his face in the crook of her neck, relishing in her sent.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, stroking the back of his neck. “We’ll have the time one day.”

He smiled against her shoulder and kissed her exposed skin, warm and littered with scars. In unison, they turned their heads to find Harry studying them, an unreadable expression on his face. Without consulting one another they reached out to him, pulling him into their warmth and after a stiff moment his arms wrapped around them, closing the circle.

“No matter what happens,” Harry said, his voice choked. “I couldn’t have done it without you, any of it.” He paused for a moment and then said in a more emotional voice, “After we go back if you two don’t want to-“

“Don’t be stupid mate,” Ron cut him off, knowing at once he was going to try yet again to give them an out. “If I had to do it again I wouldn’t have done anything differently.” He paused, thinking briefly on all of the childish fights they’d had through the years. “Well, maybe some things, but I’ll always find your compartment. It’s always been the three of us.”

Harry smiled at him, looking to Hermione who nodded. She opened her mouth to speak and after a rare moment of her struggling to come up with the proper words said. “It’s the three of us, Harry, after all this time you have to know that.”

“Thanks,” Harry managed, his eyes glistening with tears.

They clung to one another for as long as possible until finally, it was Ron who urged them along. “Can’t put Hermione’s work to waste, yeah?”

Wordlessly they resumed their position, hands over wrists, golden bands gleaming in the firelight. With bated breath they stared at the watch on Harry’s wrist, wands prone as the seconds ticked away to a new hour, a new start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to show your support for this story! Posting this story was absolutely terrifying and the response I've received has been so rewarding. 
> 
> The first chapter of the second installment titled Consequences of Time: Miscalculation, has already been posted. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and will stick with me as the journey continues!


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